ERNEST^  DOWSON 


THE  PIERROT 
OF  THE  MINUTE 


Mdccccxiii 


^  s 


I  '  ’  ^ 

i 


<  •* 


% 


/ 


4 


I 


\ 


J 


f  ■  ^ 

h' 

15 

f 

f 


» 


./  ■ 

! 

* 

#  •  *  < 

9  • 


'  *  ' 


I 


( 


4 


I 


) 


'  i-  •  ■ '  /  ■■■ 

•t 

1  ■■  ■ 

i 


i. 


THE  PIERROT  OF 
THE  MINUTE 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Getty  Research  Institute 


https://archive.org/details/pierrotofminuted00dows_1 


THE  PIERROT  OF  THE 
MINUTE  A  DRAMATIC 
PHANTASY  IN  ONE  ACT 
BY  ERNEST  DOWSON 


PORTLAND  MAINE 
THOMAS  B  MOSHER 
MDCCCCXIII 


'TUT  "lo  (:roM'M-.n‘-i 
>  I  ’I'  A  M  A  «X't  A  a  TM  /!'  I M,  ’ 
I'JA  a;4o  ,, 

.  /lOH  /you  THa»^.aa  'Vii.lj 


\ 


i  fj/  n 

•;i'nu:uiA  a  yj 
? » [ ^  a- /  ;-:a  U-^ 


NOTE 


HE  text  of  this  little  play  with 
a  few  obvious  errors  corrected,  is 
faithfully  reprinted  from  The 
Pierrot  of  the  Minute  |  A  Dra¬ 
matic^  Phantasy  \  in  one  act  1 
Written  by  \  Ernest  Dow  son  \  With  a  Frontis¬ 
piece,  Initial  Letter,  Vignette,  and  Cul-de-lampe 
by  I  Aubrey  Beardsley  |  [Device]  |  London  | 
Leonard  Smithers  |  Royal  Arcade  W.  | 
MDCCCXCVII.  Quarto,  decorated  cloth,  Pp. 
44. 

The  Epilogue  from  Posies  out  of  Rings  and 
Other  Conceits  by  William  Theodore  Peters, 
(London,  1896,)  as  we  have  said  elsewhere, 
“is  surely  worthy  of  its  place  at  the  end  of 
Dowson’s  only  dramatic  attempt.”  Peters  also 
wrote  a  one  act  dramatic  pastoral,  Le  Tournoy 
D' Amour,  (The  Testament  of  Love,)  of  which 
the  second  edition  with  French  and  English 
text,  and  a  suite  of  nine  prose  poems,  Les 
Scarabees  Blancs,  appeared  in  charming  format, 
(Brentanos:  Paris,  1897.)  It  is  in  a  copy  of 
this  rare  little  book  that  the  poet  inscribed 
these  words  :  Love  is  the  Dream  that  we  try  to 
remember  after  we  have  awakened. 


■5»f  ,l>a)'V;y|,H^'ji;,  ',|,1«,>11.!^  s%>iditdv/'wd^^  & 

uK'V'.  tiu\,\] 

-i"  "1 


A 


'  W'i  i  d  JV,  f: - V"  ^1^13 

.  (..jfinv'x  I  ;  i;/ir/'\d''^'''l 


,  m&  i ,  ^ 

:  . 'W*-/  : 1 1.4  K-  .;  ^  A  }: .V<  >  i /..If  ■ '  ;| {\  i  |>t »':t#!!^tl:'' 

;.?'M  ,4Kd':^  ib:r.d.  .oS-nt^p^ : . 

•V‘:v:  .  \'»,-v;,'  vvv:v'4 

,'.  „.'.;;v?r;J:'\  .t\  . ^  ^**^44' ^ 

;;-i'  r.i’i;::,  i,^>dvU 

'  ..)'*  fi.-  'A  '’k-  ■prq  .A: 

\.-  JuuAa.i  'm0\f!fmwAj: 

^5;/'n;i,  |^./.J^!:V';u:;i,;”:..' I"  p  n 


:.<d  i 


^;.df  ?;/l, 


^  .'V;  f-,',  ! 

ii4d'!'  ^  d’. 

..;  w|;'.0.'  -u'..  I',  ,1  .•■'  , 

r- ^  -  ,1  -.r  ■■ 


•  ■ji:;:#---^  iiuioM,,  d,_;" 

ir'i;r.  h:  a  Jmn 


f'Vi-...  >-  |\(  i) 


^.r-f 


■--^rvivdt  ,,vh/;  ; >’■ '':v; 


•^/•*,:^"l'  V ■')..■■;>»■'  -;i-:  AK<A  >iiMll  Wi  44i,  ^’jx 

V'-  <>'>vd',\  iMpA  :.'\  ,,  mm'>4 

:>:fr  ,  ''.,v  ^,..i!:.',x:,>,t  %>iAh  'v,';  vA'i^; 


THE  PIERROT  OF 
THE  MINUTE 


THE  CHARACTERS 


A  Moon  Maiden 
Pierrot 


THE  PIERROT  OF  THE  MINUTE 

The  Scene  :  A  glade  in  the  Parc  du  Petit 
Trianon.  In  the  centre  a  Doric  temple 
with  steps  coming  down  the  stage.  On  the 
left  a  little  Cupid  on  a  pedestal.  Twilight. 

(Pierrot  enters  with  his  hands  full  of  lilies. 
He  is  burdened  with  a  little  basket.  He 
stands  gazing  at  the  Temple  and  the 
Statue.) 


PIERROT 

Y  journey’s  end  !  This  surely  is 
the  glade 

Which  I  was  promised  :  I  have 
well  obeyed ! 

A  clue  of  lilies  was  I  bid  to  find, 
Where  the  green  alleys  most  obscurely  wind ; 
Where  tall  oaks  darkliest  canopy  o’erhead, 

And  moss  and  violet  make  the  softest  bed ; 
Where  the  path  ends,  and  leagues  behind  me  lie 
The  gleaming  courts  and  gardens  of  Versailles ; 


The  lilies  streamed  before  me,  green  and  white ; 
I  gathered,  following :  they  led  me  right, 

To  the  bright  temple  and  the  sacred  grove : 
This  is,  in  truth,  the  very  shrine  of  Love ! 

{He  gathers  together  his  flowers  and  lays 
them  at  the  foot  of  Cupid* s  statue ;  then  he 
goes  timidly  up  the  first  steps  of  the  temple 
and  stops.) 

PIERROT 

It  is  so  solitary,  I  grow  afraid. 

Is  there  no  priest  here,  no  devoted  maid.? 

Is  there  no  oracle,  no  voice  to  speak. 
Interpreting  to  me  the  word  I  seek.? 

{A  very  gentle  music  of  lutes  floats  out  from 
the  temple.  Pierrot  starts  back ;  he  shows 
extreme  surprise ;  then  he  returns  to  the 
foreground,  and  crouches  down  in  rapt 
attention  until  the  music  ceases.  His  face 
grows  puzzled  and  petulant.) 

PIERROT 

Too  soon  !  too  soon  !  in  that  enchanting  strain. 
Days  yet  unlived,  I  almost  lived  again : 

It  almost  taught  me  that  I  most  would  know  — 
Why  am  I  here,  and  why  am  I  Pierrot.? 


4 


{ Absently  he  picks  up  a  lily  which  has  fallen 
to  the  ground,  and  repeats : ) 

PIERROT 

Why  came  I  here,  and  why  am  I  Pierrot? 
That  music  and  this  silence  both  affright ; 
Pierrot  can  never  be  a  friend  of  night. 

I  never  felt  my  solitude  before  — 

Once  safe  at  home,  I  will  return  no  more. 

Yet  the  commandment  of  the  scroll  was  plain ; 
While  the  light  lingers  let  me  read  again. 

{He  takes  a  scroll  from  his  bosom  and  reads :) 

PIERROT 

He  loves  to-night  who  never  loved  before ; 
Who  ever  loved,  to-night  shall  love  once  more.'' 
I  never  loved  !  I  know  not  what  love  is. 

I  am  so  ignorant  —  but  what  is  this  ? 

{Reads.) 

Who  would  adventure  to  encounter  Love 
Must  rest  one  night  within  this  hallowed  grove. 
Cast  down  thy  lilies,  which  have  led  thee  on. 
Before  the  tender  feet  of  Cupidon." 

Thus  much  is  done,  the  night  remains  to  me. 
Well,  Cupidon,  be  my  security  ! 

Here  is  more  writing,  but  too  faint  to  read. 


5 


(He  puzzles  for  a  moment,  then  casts  the  scroll 
down.) 


PIERROT 

Hence,  vain  old  parchment.  I  have  learnt  thy 
rede  ! 

(He  looks  round  uneasily,  starts  at  his  shadow ; 
then  discovers  his  basket  with  glee.  He 
takes  out  a  flask  of  wine,  pours  it  into  a 
glass,  and  drink s^ 

PIERROT 

Courage,  mon  Ami!  I  shall  never  miss 

Society  with  such  a  friend  as  this. 

How  merrily  the  rosy  bubbles  pass, 

Across  the  amber  crystal  of  the  glass. 

I  had  forgotten  you.  Methinks  this  quest 

Can  wake  no  sweeter  echo  in  my  breast. 

(Looks  round  at  the  statue,  and  starts.) 
PIERROT 

Nay,  little  god  !  forgive.  I  did  but  jest. 

(He  fills  another  glass,  and  pours  it  upon  the 
statue^ 


6 


PIERROT 


This  libation,  Cupid,  take. 

With  the  lilies  at  thy  feet ; 

Cherish  Pierrot  for  their  sake 

Send  him  visions  strange  and  sweet. 
While  he  slumbers  at  thy  feet. 

Only  love  kiss  him  awake ! 

Only  love  kiss  him  awake  f 

{Slowly  falls  the  darkness,  soft  music  plays, 
while  Pierrot  gathers  together  fern  and 
foliage  into  a  rough  couch  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps  which  lead  to  the  Temple  d^ Amour. 
Then  he  lies  down  upon  it,  having  made  his 
prayer.  It  is  night.) 

PIERROT  {softly) 

Music,  more  music,  far  away  and  faint : 

It  is  an  echo  of  mine  heart’s  complaint. 

Why  should  I  be  so  musical  and  sad  i 
I  wonder  why  I  used  to  be  so  glad  i 
In  single  glee  I  chased  blue  butterflies. 

Half  butterfly  myself,  but  not  so  wise. 

For  they  were  twain,  and  I  was  only  one. 

Ah  me  !  how  pitiful  to  be  alone. 

My  brown  birds  told  me  much,  but  in  mine  ear 
They  never  whispered  this  —  I  learned  it  here  : 


7 


The  soft  wood  sounds,  the  rustlings  in  the  breeze, 
Are  but  the  stealthy  kisses  of  the  trees. 

Each  flower  and  fern  in  this  enchanted  wood 
Leans  to  her  fellow,  and  is  understood ; 

The  eglantine,  in  loftier  station  set. 

Stoops  down  to  woo  the  maidly  violet. 

In  gracile  pairs  the  very  lilies  grow : 

None  is  companionless  except  Pierrot. 

Music,  more  music!  how  its  echoes  steal 
Upon  my  senses  with  unlooked  for  weal. 

Tired  am  I,  tired,  and  far  from  this  lone  glade 
Seems  mine  old  joy  in  rout  and  masquerade. 
Sleep  cometh  over  me,  now  will  I  prove. 

By  Cupid’s  grace,  what  is  this  thing  called  love. 

{Sleeps.) 

{There  is  more  music  of  lutes  for  an  nterval, 
during  which  a  bright  radiance,  white  and 
cold,  streams  from  the  temple  upon  the 
face  of  Pierrot.  Presently  a  MoON 
Maiden  steps  out  of  the  temple-,  she 
descends  and  stands  over  the  sleeper.) 

THE  LADY 

Who  is  this  mortal 

Who  ventures  to-night 
To  woo  an  immortal. 

Cold,  cold  the  moon’s  light, 


8 


For  sleep  at  this  portal, 

Bold  lover  of  night. 

Fair  is  the  mortal 
In  soft,  silken  white, 

Who  seeks  an  immortal. 

Ah,  lover  of  night. 

Be  warned  at  the  portal. 

And  save  thee  in  flight ! 

{She  stoops  over  him  :  PIERROT  stirs  in  his 
sleep.) 

PIERROT  {murmuring) 

Forget  not,  Cupid.  Teach  me  all  thy  lore  : 

“  He  loves  to-night  who  never  loved  before.^' 

THE  LADY 

Unwitting  boy !  when,  be  it  soon  or  late. 

What  Pierrot  ever  has  escaped  his  fate  i 
What  if  I  warned  him  !  He  might  yet  evade. 
Through  the  long  windings  of  this  verdant  glade ; 
Seek  his  companions  in  the  blither  way. 
Which,  else,  must  be  as  lost  as  yesterday. 

So  might  he  still  pass  some  unheeding  hours 
In  the  sweet  company  of  birds  and  flowers. 
How  fair  he  is,  with  red  lips  formed  for  joy. 

As  softly  curved  as  those  of  Venus’  boy. 


9 


Methinks  his  eyes,  beneath  their  silver  sheaves, 
Rest  tranquilly  like  lilies  under  leaves. 

Arrayed  in  innocence,  what  touch  of  grace 
Reveals  the  scion  of  a  courtly  race? 

Well,  I  will  warn  him,  though,  I  fear,  too  late  — 
What  Pierrot  ever  has  escaped  his  fate  ? 

But,  see,  he  stirs,  new  knowledge  fires  his  brain. 
And  Cupid’s  vision  bids  him  wake  again. 
Dione’s  Daughter !  but  how  fair  he  is. 

Would  it  be  wrong  to  rouse  him  with  a  kiss? 

{She  stoops  down  and  kisses  him,  then  with¬ 
draws  mto  the  shadow.) 

PIERROT  {rubbing  his  eyes) 

Celestial  messenger  !  remain,  remain ; 

Or,  if  a  vision,  visit  me  again  ! 

What  is  this  light,  and  whither  am  I  come 
To  sleep  beneath  the  stars  so  far  from  home  ? 

{Rises  slowly  to  his  feet.) 

PIERROT 

Stay,  I  remember  this  is  Venus’  Grove, 

And  I  am  hither  come  to  encounter - 

THE  LADY  {coming  forward,  but  veiled) 

Love ! 


10 


PIERROT  {in  ecstacy,  throwing  himself  at 
her  feet) 

Then  have  I  ventured  and  encountered  Love? 
THE  LADY 

Not  yet,  rash  boy  !  and,  if  thou  wouldst  be  wdse. 
Return  unknowing;  he  is  safe  who  flies. 

PIERROT 

Never,  sweet  lady,  will  I  leave  this  place 
Until  I  see  the  wonder  of  thy  face. 

Goddess  or  Naiad  !  lady  of  this  Grove, 

Made  mortal  for  a  night  to  teach  me  love. 
Unveil  thyself,  although  thy  beauty  be 
Too  luminous  for  my  mortality. 

THE  LADY  {unveiling) 

Then,  foolish  boy,  receive  at  length  thy  will : 
Now  knowest  thou  the  greatness  of  thine  ill. 

PIERROT 

Now  have  I  lost  my  heart,  and  gained  my  goal. 
THE  LADY 

Didst  thou  not  read  the  warning  on  the  scroll  ? 
{Picking  up  the  parchment^ 


11 


PIERROT 


I  read  it  all,  as  on  this  quest  I  fared, 

Save  where  it  was  illegible  and  hard. 

THE  LADY 

Alack  !  poor  scholar,  wast  thou  never  taught 
A  little  knowledge  serveth  less  than  naught.? 

Hadst  thou  perused - but,  stay,  I  will  explain 

What  was  the  writing  which  thou  didst  disdain. 

{Reads.) 

Au  Petit  Trianon,  at  night’s  full  noon, 
Mortal,  beware  the  kisses  of  the  moon ! 

Whoso  seeks  her  she  gathers  like  a  flower  — 
He  gives  a  life,  and  only  gains  an  hour.” 

PIERROT  {laughing  recklessly 

Bear  me  away  to  thine  enchanted  bower, 

All  of  my  life  I  venture  for  an  hour. 

THE  LADY 

Take  up  thy  destiny  of  short  delight; 

I  am  thy  lady  for  a  summer’s  night. 

Lift  up  your  viols,  maidens  of  my  train. 

And  work  such  havoc  on  this  mortal’s  brain 
That  for  a  moment  he  may  touch  and  know 
Immortal  things,  and  be  full  Pierrot. 


12 


White  music,  Nymphs !  Violet  and  Eglantine  ! 
To  stir  his  tired  veins  like  magic  wine. 

What  visitants  across  his  spirit  glance, 

Lying  on  lilies,  while  he  watch  me  dance.? 
Watch,  and  forget  all  weary  things  of  earth, 

All  memories  and  cares,  all  joy  and  mirth, 
While  my  dance  wooes  him,  light  and  rythmical, 
And  weaves  his  heart  into  my  coronal. 

Music,  more  music  for  his  soul’s  delight: 

Love  is  his  lady  for  a  summer’s  night. 

(Pierrot  reclines^  and  gazes  at  her  while 
she  dances.  The  dance  finished,  she  beckons 
to  him  :  he  rises  dreamily,  and  stands  at  her 
side.) 


PIERROT 

Whence  came,  dear  Queen,  such  magic  melody  ? 
THE  LADY 

Pan  made  it  long  ago  in  Arcady. 

PIERROT 

I  heard  it  long  ago,  I  know  not  where. 

As  I  knew  thee,  or  ever  I  came  here. 

But  I  forget  all  things  —  my  name  and  race 
All  that  I  ever  knew  except  thy  face. 


13 


Who  art  thou,  lady  ?  Breathe  a  name  to  me, 
That  I  may  tell  it  like  a  rosary. 

Thou,  whom  I  sought,  dear  Dryad  of  the  trees. 
How  art  thou  designate  — art  thou  Heart’s-Ease  ? 

THE  LADY 

Waste  not  the  night  in  idle  questioning, 

Since  Love  departs  at  dawn’s  awakening. 

PIERROT 

Nay,  thou  art  right;  what  recks  thy  name  or  state. 
Since  thou  art  lovely  and  compassionate. 

Play  out  thy  will  on  me :  I  am  thy  lyre. 

THE  LADY 

I  am  to  each  the  face  of  his  desire. 

PIERROT 

I  am  not  Pierrot,  but  Venus’  dove. 

Who  craves  a  refuge  on  the  breast  of  love. 

THE  LADY 

What  wouldst  thou  of  the  maiden  of  the  moon  ? 
Until  the  cock  crow  I  may  grant  thy  boon. 

PIERROT 

Then,  sweet  Moon  Maiden,  in  some  magic  car. 
Wrought  wondrously  of  many  a  homeless  star — 


14 


Such  must  attend  thy  journeys  through  the  skies, — 
Drawn  by  a  team  of  milk-white  butterflies, 
Whom,  with  soft  voice  and  music  of  thy  maids, 
Thou  urgest  gently  through  the  heavenly  glades ; 
Mount  me  beside  thee,  bear  me  far  away 
From  the  low  regions  of  the  solar  day  ; 

Over  the  rainbow,  up  into  the  moon, 

Where  is  thy  palace  and  thine  opal  throne; 

There  on  thy  bosom - 

THE  LADY 

Too  ambitious  boy  ! 

I  did  but  promise  thee  one  hour  of  joy. 

This  tour  thou  plannest,  with  a  heart  so  light, 
Could  hardly  be  completed  in  a  night. 

Hast  thou  no  craving  less  remote  than  this? 

PIERROT 

Would  it  be  impudent  to  beg  a  kiss? 

THE  LADY 

I  say  not  that :  yet  prithee  have  a  care  ! 

Often  audacity  has  proved  a  snare. 

How  wan  and  pale  do  moon-kissed  roses  grow  — 
Dost  thou  not  fear  my  kisses,  Pierrot? 


15 


PIERROT 


As  one  who  faints  upon  the  Libyan  plain 
Fears  the  oasis  which  brings  life  again  ! 

THE  LADY 

Where  far  away  green  palm  trees  seem  to  stand 
May  be  a  mirage  of  the  wreathing  sand. 

PIERROT 

Nay,  dear  enchantress,  I  consider  naught, 

Save  mine  own  ignorance,  which  would  be  taught. 

THE  LADY 
Dost  thou  persist.? 

PIERROT 

I  do  entreat  this  boon  ! 

iShe  bends  forward,  their  lips>  meet:  she 
withdraws  with  a  petulant  shiver.  She 
utters  a  peal  of  clear  laughter.) 

THE  LADY 

Why  art  thou  pale,  fond  lover  of  the  moon.? 
PIERROT 

Cold  are  thy  lips,  more  cold  than  I  can  tell ; 

Yet  would  I  hang  on  them,  thine  icicle  ! 


16 


Cold  is  thy  kiss,  more  cold  than  I  could  dream 
Arctus  sits,  watching  the  Boreal  stream  : 

But  with  its  frost  such  sweetness  did  conspire 
That  all  my  veins  are  filled  with  running  fire ; 
Never  I  knew  that  life  contained  such  bliss 
As  the  divine  completeness  of  a  kiss. 

THE  LADY 

Apt  scholar!  so  love’s  lesson  has  been  taught. 
Warning,  as  usual,  has  gone  for  naught. 

PIERROT 

Had  all  my  schooling  been  of  this  soft  kind, 

To  play  the  truant  I  were  less  inclined. 

Teach  me  again  I  I  am  a  sorry  dunce  — 

I  never  knew  a  task  by  conning  once. 

THE  LADY 

Then  come  with  me  I  below  this  pleasant  shrine 
Of  Venus  we  will  presently  recline, 

Until  birds’  twitter  beckon  me  away 
To  my  own  home,  beyond  the  milky-way. 

I  will  instruct  thee,  for  I  deem  as  yet 
Of  Love  thou  knowest  but  the  alphabet. 

PIERROT 

In  its  sweet  grammar  I  shall  grow  most  wise. 
If  all  its  rules  be  written  in  thine  eyes. 


17 


(The  Lady  sits  upon  a  step  of  the  temple, 
and  Pierrot  leans  upon  his  elbow  at  her 
feet,  regarding  her.) 

PIERROT 

Sweet  contemplation  !  how  my  senses  yearn 
To  be  thy  scholar  always,  always  learn. 

Hold  not  so  high  from  me  thy  radiant  mouth, 
Fragrant  with  all  the  spices  of  the  South ; 

Nor  turn,  O  sweet !  thy  golden  face  away, 

For  with  it  goes  the  light  of  all  my  day. 

Let  me  peruse  it,  till  I  know  by  rote 
Each  line  of  it,  like  music,  note  by  note  ; 

Raise  thy  long  lashes,  Lady  !  smile  again  : 
These  studies  profit  me. 

{Taking  her  hand.) 

THE  LADY 

Refrain,  refrain ! 
PIERROT  {with  passion) 

I  am  but  studious,  so  do  not  stir; 

Thou  art  my  star,  I  thine  astronomer ! 
Geometry  was  founded  on  thy  lip. 

{Kisses  her  hand.) 

THE  LADY 

This  attitude  becomes  not  scholarship  ! 

Thy  zeal  I  praise ;  but,  prithee,  not  so  fast. 


18 


Nor  leave  the  rudiments  until  the  last, 

Science  applied  is  good,  but  ’twere  a  schism 
To  study  such  before  the  catechism. 

Bear  thee  more  modestly,  while  I  submit 
Some  easy  problems  to  confirm  thy  wit. 

PIERROT 

In  all  humility  my  mind  I  pit 

Against  her  problems  which  would  test  my  wit. 

THE  LADY  ^questioning  him  from  a  little 
book  bound  deliciously  in  vellum) 

What  is  Love? 

Is  it  a  folly. 

Is  it  mirth,  or  melancholy? 

Joys  above, 

Are  there  many,  or  not  any  ? 

What  is  love  ? 

PIERROT  {answering  in  a  very  humble  atti¬ 
tude  of  scholarship) 

If  you  please, 

A  most  sweet  folly  ! 

Full  of  mirth  and  melancholy  : 

Both  of  these  ! 

In  its  sadness  worth  all  gladness. 

If  you  please  ! 


19 


THE  LADY 


Prithee  where, 

Goes  Love  a-hiding? 

Is  he  long  in  his  abiding 
Anywhere  ? 

Can  you  bind  him  when  you  find  him ; 
Prithee,  where? 

PIERROT 

With  spring  days 
Love  comes  and  dallies : 

Upon  the  mountains,  through  the  valleys 
Lie  Love’s  ways. 

Then  he  leaves  you  and  deceives  you 
In  spring  days. 

THE  LADY 

Thine  answers  please  me  :  ’tis  thy  turn  to  ask. 
To  meet  thy  questioning  be  now  my  task. 

PIERROT 

Since  I  know  thee,  dear  Immortal, 

Is  my  heart  become  a  blossom. 

To  be  worn  upon  thy  bosom. 

When  thou  turn  me  from  this  portal. 
Whither  shall  I,  hapless  mortal. 

Seek  love  out  and  win  again 
Heart  of  me  that  thou  retain  ? 


20 


THE  LADY 


In  and  out  the  woods  and  valleys, 
Circling,  soaring  like  a  swallow. 

Love  shall  flee  and  thou  shalt  follow : 
Though  he  stops  awhile  and  dallies. 
Never  shalt  thou  stay  his  malice  ! 
Moon-kissed  mortals  seek  in  vain 
To  possess  their  hearts  again  ! 

PIERROT 

Tell  me.  Lady,  shall  I  never 
Rid  me  of  this  grievous  burden  ! 
Follow  Love  and  find  his  guerdon 
In  no  maiden  whatsoever? 

Wilt  thou  hold  my  heart  for  ever? 
Rather  would  I  thine  forget, 

In  some  earthly  Pierrette  ! 

THE  LADY 

Thus  thy  fate,  whaPer  thy  will  is  ! 
Moon-struck  child,  go  seek  my  traces 
Vainly  in  all  mortal  faces  ! 

In  and  out  among  the  lilies. 

Court  each  rural  Amaryllis  : 

Seek  the  signet  of  Love’s  hand 
In  each  courtly  Corisande  ! 


21 


PIERROT 


Now,  verily,  sweet  maid,  of  school  I  tire : 

These  answers  are  not  such  as  I  desire. 

THE  LADY 
Why  art  thou  sad 

PIERROT 

I  dare  not  tell. 

THE  LADY  {caressingly) 

Come,  say  ! 

PIERROT 

Is  love  all  schooling,  with  no  time  to  play.? 

THE  LADY 

Though  all  love’s  lessons  be  a  holiday. 

Yeti  will  humour  thee:  what  wouldst  thou  play.? 

PIERROT 

What  are  the  games  that  small  moon-maids  enjoy. 
Or  is  their  time  all  spent  in  staid  employ.? 

THE  LADY 

Sedate  they  are,  yet  games  they  much  enjoy : 
They  skip  with  stars,  the  rainbow  is  their  toy. 


22 


PIERROT 


That  is  too  hard  ! 

THE  LADY 

For  mortaPs  play. 

PIERROT 

What  then  ? 

THE  LADY 

Teach  me  some  pastime  from  the  world  of  men. 
PIERROT 

I  have  it,  maiden. 

THE  LADY 

Can  it  soon  be  taught? 

PIERROT 

A  simple  game,  I  learnt  it  at  the  Court. 

I  sit  by  thee. 

THE  LADY 
But,  prithee,  not  so  near. 

PIERROT 

That  is  essential,  as  will  soon  appear. 

Lay  here  thine  hand,  which  cold  night  dews  anoint. 
Washing  its  white - 


23 


THE  LADY 


Now  is  this  to  the  point? 
PIERROT 

Prithee,  forbear !  Such  is’the  game's  design. 

THE  LADY 
Here  is  my  hand. 

PIERROT 

I  cover  it  with  mine. 

THE  LADY 
What  must  I  next  ? 

{They  play.) 

PIERROT 

Withdraw. 


THE  LADY 

It  goes  too  fast. 

{They  continue  playing,  until  PIERROT 
catches  her  hand.) 


PIERROT  {laughing) 

'T  is  done.  I  win  my  forfeit  at  the  last. 


24 


{He  tries  to  embrace  her.  She  escapes ;  he 
chases  her  round  the  stage ;  she  eludes  him.) 

THE  LADY 

Thou  art  not  quick  enough.  Who  hopes  to  catch 
A  moon-beam,  must  use  twice  as  much  despatch. 

PIERROT  {sitting  down  sulkily) 

I  grow  aweary,  and  my  heart  is  sore. 

Thou  dost  not  love  me;  I  will  play  no  more. 

{He  buries  his  face  in  his  hands:  THE 
Lady  stands  over  him.) 

THE  LADY 
What  is  this  petulance.^ 

PIERROT 

’T  is  quick  to  tell  — 

Thou  hast  but  mocked  me. 

THE  LADY 

Nay  !  I  love  thee  well  ! 

PIERROT 

Repeat  those  words,  for  still  within  my  breast 
A  whisper  warns  me  they  are  said  in  jest. 


25 


THE  LADY 


I  jested  not :  at  daybreak  I  must  go, 

Yet  loving  thee  far  better  than  thou  know. 

PIERROT 

Then,  by  this  altar,  and  this  sacred  shrine. 

Take  my  sworn  troth,  and  swear  thee  wholly  mine  ! 
The  gods  have  wedded  mortals  long  ere  this. 

THE  LADY 

There  was  enough  betrothal  in  my  kiss 
What  need  of  further  oaths? 

PIERROT 

That  bound  not  thee  ! 

THE  LADY 

Peace  !  since  I  tell  thee  that  it  may  not  be. 

But  sit  beside  me  whilst  I  soothe  thy  bale 
With  some  moon  fancy  or  celestial  tale. 

PIERROT 

Tell  me  of  thee,  and  that  dim,  happy  place 
Where  lies  thine  home,  with  maidens  of  thy  race ! 


26 


THE  LADY  {seating  herself) 

Calm  is  it  yonder,  very  calm  ;  the  air 
For  mortals’  breath  is  too  refined  and  rare ; 

Hard  by  a  green  lagoon  our  palace  rears 
Its  dome  of  agate  through  a  myriad  years. 

A  hundred  chambers  its  bright  walls  enthrone, 

Each  one  carved  strangely  from  a  precious  stone. 
Within  the  fairest,  clad  in  purity. 

Our  mother  dwelleth  immemorially  : 

Moon-calm,  moon-pale,  with  moon  stones  on  her  gown. 
The  floor  she  treads  with  little  pearls  is  sown  ; 

She  sits  upon  a  throne  of  amethysts. 

And  orders  mortal  fortunes  as  she  lists ; 

I,  and  my  sisters,  all  around  her  stand, 

And,  when  she  speaks,  accomplish  her  demand. 

PIERROT 

Methought  grim  Clotho  and  her  sisters  twain 
With  shrivelled  fingers  spun  this  web  of  bane ! 

THE  LADY 

Their’s  and  my  mother’s  realm  is  far  apart ; 

Her’s  is  the  lustrous  kingdom  of  the  heart. 

And  dreamers  all,  and  all  who  sing  and  love, 

Her  power  acknowledge,  and  her  rule  approve. 

PIERROT 

Me,  even  me,  she  hath  led  into  this  grove. 


27 


THE  LADY 


Yea,  thou  art  one  of  hers  !  But,  ere  this  night, 
Often  I  watched  my  sisters  take  their  flight 
Down  heaven’s  stairway  of  the  clustered  stars 
To  gaze  on  mortals  through  their  lattice  bars ; 
And  some  in  sleep  they  woo  with  dreams  of  bliss 
Too  shadowy  to  tell,  and  some  they  kiss. 

But  all  to  whom  they  come,  my  sisters  say. 
Forthwith  forget  all  joyance  of  the  day. 

Forget  their  laughter  and  forget  their  tears. 

And  dream  away  with  singing  all  their  years  — 
Moon-lovers  always  ! 

iShe  sighs.) 

PIERROT 

Why  art  sad,  sweet  Moon? 

{Laughing.) 

THE  LADY 

For  this,  my  story,  grant  me  now  a  boon. 
PIERROT 

I  am  thy  servitor. 

THE  LADY 

Would,  then,  I  knew 

More  of  the  earth,  what  men  and  women  do. 


28 


PIERROT 


I  will  explain. 

THE  LADY 


Let  brevity  attend 

Thy  wit,  for  night  approaches  to  its  end. 
PIERROT 


Once  was  I  a  page  at  Court,  so  trust  in  me  : 
That ’s  the  first  lesson  of  society. 


THE  LADY 

Society  ? 

PIERROT 
I  mean  the  very  best 

Pardy  !  thou  wouldst  not  hear  about  the  rest. 

I  know  it  not,  but  am  a  maitre 
At  rout  and  festival  and  bal  champetre. 

But  since  example  be  instruction’s  ease. 

Let ’splay  the  thing. — Now,  Madame,  if  you  please 

{He  helps  her  to  rise,  and  leads  her  forward : 
then  he  kisses  her  hand,  bowing  over  it  with 
a  very  courtly  air.) 


THE  LADY 
What  am  I,  then  ? 


29 


PIERROT 


A  most  divine  Marquise  1 
Perhaps  that  attitude  hath  too  much  ease. 

{Passes  her.) 

Ah,  that  is  better  !  To  complete  the  plan, 
Nothing  is  necessary  save  a  fan. 

THE  LADY 

Cool  is  the  night,  what  needs  it.? 

PIERROT 

Madame,  pray 

Reflect,  it  is  essential  to  our  play. 

THE  LADY  {taking  a  lily) 

Here  is  my  fan  ! 

PIERROT 

So,  use  it  with  intent : 

The  deadliest  arm  in  beauty’s  armament ! 

THE  LADY 

What  do  we  next.? 

PIERROT 
We  talk ! 


30 


THE  LADY 


But  what  about? 


PIERROT 

We  quiz  the  company  and  praise  the  rout; 

Are  polished,  petulant,  malicious,  sly. 

Or  what  you  will,  so  reputations  die. 

Observe  the  Duchess  in  Venetian  lace. 

With  the  red  eminence. 

THE  LADY 

A  pretty  face  ! 

PIERROT 

For  something  tarter  set  thy  wits  to  search  — 
“She  loves  the  churchman  better  than  the  church.” 

THE  LADY 

Her  blush  is  charming;  would  it  were  her  own  ! 

PIERROT 
Madame  is  merciless  ! 

THE  LADY 

Is  that  the  tone? 


31 


PIERROT 


The  very  tone  :  I  swear  thou  lackest  naught. 
Madame  was  evidently  bred  at  Court. 

THE  LADY 

Thou  speakest  glibly :  ’t  is  not  of  thine  age. 
PIERROT 

I  listened  much,  as  best  becomes  a  page. 

THE  LADY 
I  like  thy  Court  but  little - 

PIERROT 

Hush  !  the  Queen  ! 
Bow,  but  not  low  —  thou  knowest  what  I  mean. 

THE  LADY 

Nay,  that  I  know  not ! 

PIERROT 

Though  she  wear  a  crown, 
’T  is  from  La  Pompadour  one  fears  a  frown. 

THE  LADY 

Thou  art  a  child  :  thy  malice  is  a  game. 


32 


PIERROT 

A  most  sweet  pastime  —  scandal  is  its  name. 

THE  LADY 
Enough,  it  wearies  me. 

PIERROT 

Then,  rare  Marquise, 
Desert  the  crowd  to  wander  through  the  trees. 

{He  bows  low,  and  she  curtsies ;  they  move 
round  the  stage.  When  they  pass  before 
the  Statue  he  seizes  her  hand  and  falls  on 
his  knee.) 

THE  LADY 
What  wouldst  thou  now.? 

PIERROT 

Ah,  prithee,  what,  save  thee  ! 
THE  LADY 

Was  this  included  in  thy  comedy.? 

PIERROT 

Ah,  mock  me  not !  In  vain  with  quirk  and  jest 
I  strive  to  quench  the  passion  in  my  breast ; 


33 


In  vain  thy  blandishments  would  make  me  play : 
Still  I  desire  far  more  than  I  can  say. 

My  knowledge  halts,  ah,  sweet,  be  piteous. 
Instruct  me  still,  while  time  remains  to  us. 

Be  what  thou  wist.  Goddess,  moon-maid.  Marquise, 
So  that  I  gather  from  thy  lips  heart’s  ease. 

Nay,  I  implore  thee,  think  thee  how  time  flies  ! 

THE  LADY 

Hush  !  I  beseech  thee,  even  now  night  dies. 
PIERROT 

Night,  day,  are  one  to  me  for  thy  soft  sake. 

{He  entreats  her  with  imploring  gestures,  she 
hesitates :  then  puts  her  finger  on  her  lip, 
hushing  him.) 

THE  LADY 

It  is  too  late,  for  hark  !  the  birds  awake. 
PIERROT 

The  birds  awake !  It  is  the  voice  of  day  ! 

THE  LADY 

Farewell,  dear  youth  !  They  summon  me  away. 

{The  light  changes,  it  grows  daylight:  and 
music  imitates  the  twitter  of  the  birds. 


34 


They  stand  ^axinyr  at  the  morning:  then 
Pierrot  sinks  back  upon  his  bed,  he 
covers  his  face  in  his  hands.) 

THE  LADY  {bending  over  him) 

Music,  my  maids  !  His  weary  senses  steep 
In  soft  untroubled  and  oblivious  sleep, 

With  Mandragore  anoint  his  tired  eyes. 

That  they  may  open  on  mere  memories. 

Then  shall  a  vision  seem  his  lost  delight. 

With  love,  his  lady  for  a  summer’s  night. 

Dream  thou  hast  dreamt  all  this,  when  thou  awake. 
Yet  still  be  sorrowful,  for  a  dream’s  sake. 

I  leave  thee,  sleeper!  Yea,  I  leave  thee  now. 

Yet  take  my  legacy  upon  thy  brow : 

Remember  me,  who  was  compassionate. 

And  opened  for  thee  once,  the  ivory  gate. 

I  come  no  more,  thou  shalt  not  see  my  face 
When  I  am  gone  to  mine  exalted  place : 

Yet  all  thy  days  are  mine,  dreamer  of  dreams. 

All  silvered  over  with  the  moon’s  pale  beams  : 

Go  forth  and  seek  in  each  fair  face  in  vain. 

To  find  the  image  of  thy  love  again. 

All  maids  are  kind  to  thee,  yet  never  one 
Shall  hold  thy  truant  heart  till  day  be  done. 

Whom  once  the  moon  has  kissed,  loves  long  and  late, 
Yet  never  finds  the  maid  to  be  his  mate. 

Farewell,  dear  sleeper,  follow  out  thy  fate. 


35 


{The  Moon  Maiden  withdraws :  a  song 
is  sung  from  behind :  it  is  full  day.) 

The  Moon  Maiden’s  Song 

Sleep  !  Cast  thy  canopy 

Over  this  sleeper’s  brain, 

Dim  grow  his  memory, 

When  he  awake  again. 

Love  stays  a  summer  night. 

Till  lights  of  morning  come  ; 

Then  takes  her  wingM  flight 
Back  to  her  starry  home. 

Sleep  !  Yet  thy  days  are  mine  ; 

Love’s  seal  is  over  thee  : 

Far  though  my  ways  from  thine. 

Dim  though  thy  memory. 

Love  stays  a  summer  night. 

Till  lights  of  morning  come ; 

Then  takes  her  wingM  flight 
Back  to  her  starry  home. 

( When  the  song  is  finished,  the  curtain  falls 
upon  Pierrot  sleeping.) 


EPILOGUE 

(Spoken  in  the  character  of  Pierrot) 

I  ^  HE  sun  is  up,  yet  ere  a  body  stirs, 

A  word  with  you,  sweet  ladies  and  dear  sirs, 
(Although  on  no  account  let  any  say 
That  Pierrot  finished  Mr.  Dowson  s  play). 

One  night  not  long  ago,  at  Baden  Baden, — 

The  birthday  of  the  Duke, —  his  pleasure  garden 
Was  lighted  gaily  with  feu  d’artifice, 

With  candles,  rockets,  and  a  centre-piece 
Above  the  conversation  house,  on  high. 

Outlined  in  living  fire  against  the  sky, 

A  glittering  Pierrot,  radiant,  white. 

Whose  heart  beat  fast,  who  danced  with  sheer  delight 
Whose  eyes  were  blue,  whose  lips  were  rosy  red 
Whose  pompons  too  were  fire,  while  on  his  head 
He  wore  a  little  cap,  and  I  am  told 
That  rockets  covered  him  with  showers  of  gold. 
^‘Take  our  applause,  you  well  deserve  to  win  itf^ 
They  cried :  Bravo  /  the  Pierrot  of  the  minute  !  ” 


37 


What  with  applause  and  gold,  one  must  confess 
That  Pierrot  had  arrived,'"'’  achieved  success, 
Whe?i,  as  it  happened,  presently,  alas  I 
A  terrible  disaster  came  to  pass. 

His  nose  grew  dim,  the  people  gave  a  shout. 

His  red  lips  paled,  both  his  blue  eyes  went  out. 
There  rose  a  sullen  sound  of  discontent. 

The  golden  shower  of  rockets  was  all  spent ; 

He  left  off  dancing  with  a  sudden  jerk. 

For  he  was  nothing  but  a  firework. 

The  garden  darkened  and  the  people  in  it 
Cried,  ‘'He  is  dead, — the  Pierrot  of  the  minuteT’ 

With  every  artist  it  is  even  so ; 

The  artist,  after  all,  is  a  Pierrot  — 

A  Pierrot  of  the  minute,  naif,  clever. 

But  Art  is  back  of  him.  She  lives  for  ever  I 

Then  pardon  my  Moon  Maid  and  me,  because 
We  craved  the  golden  shower  of  your  applause  I 
Pray  shrive  us  both  for  having  tried  to  win  it. 
And  cry,  “Bravo  /  The  Pierrot  of  the  minute  I  ” 


NINE  HUNDRED  AND  FIFTY  COPIES  OF 
THIS  BOOK  PRINTED  ON  VAN  GELDER 
HAND-MADE  PAPER  AND  THE  TYPE 
DISTRIBUTED 


f'^or 


\ 


mm 


1V 


!! 


,t  ■ 


>•  % 


mr 


V-’’' 

-v"  ,•'■■' 

■‘•r 


